


The Pole-fessional

by acaseofthemondays



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Pole Dancing, WinterShock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 10:59:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10615491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acaseofthemondays/pseuds/acaseofthemondays
Summary: The one shot in which Bucky Barnes likes to pole dance in his spare time. Because everybody needs a hobby.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by [this post and glorious bit of fan art.](https://holdmecloseandfast.tumblr.com/post/159519883698/musichowler-slaughterme-barnes-pour-some)
> 
> Many thanks to my beta LadyA who stayed up till 3am editing this because she is a good, good person.

It was Natalia who first introduced him to it. He'd walked in on her in the training room, her lithe little body twisting sinuously around the pole that was mounted in one corner of the room. He had laughed and ribbed her over it, asking if Stark had docked her pay and she needed a secondary source of income now.

She'd met him with that razor blade smile and a challenge rolling off her tongue. "It's harder than it looks, Yasha. I'd like to see  _ you _ try it."

Not one to back down, he'd stepped forward and gripped the pole in both hands and attempted to maneuver himself into the series of moves he'd witnessed her make.

And shit if it wasn't one of the hardest things he'd ever attempted. Nat had hit the floor, laughing until she cried at his miserable attempts. Which infuriated him to no end.

He'd immediately demanded that she instruct him properly.

At first it was a matter of pride, being able to master anything that Natalia could do. But then it became something almost...therapeutic.

His new hobby was a discipline in strength, control, and balance that simultaneously required the dancer to create grace and beauty to the beat of whatever song was playing. It was a strange blending of his skills from both halves of his life that fell on either side of the defining moment of falling from that goddamn train in the Alps. 

Maybe that's why he found it so soothing? It helped him mesh together the two halves of himself in a way that didn't hurt his soul and let him find a level of freedom that was, to be honest, downright exhilarating. And, of course, it didn't hurt that he'd gotten  _ really _ good at it in a fairly short amount of time. Even better than Nat.

Actually, that was the best part of the whole venture: seeing Nat glare at him with every seemingly effortless sweep of his body around the pole. He always was an  _ excellent  _ dancer. 

But then Pepper Potts walked in on him practicing. 

At first it had been humiliating. Besides Natalia, no one else was aware of his little hobby, and she'd been sworn to secrecy on pain of death. So having the crisp, ponytailed C.E.O. of Stark Industries walk in on him at 4am as he spun around sensually by one leg,  _ upside down _ , his back arched like a damn cat, was quite the surprise. He'd almost fallen right off the pole and snapped his neck. 

Instead he landed on his feet, twisting in midair, again like a damn cat, and stood there blushing and stuttering like Steve with a pretty dame. He just  _ knew  _ Tony’s girl was gonna share what she'd seen with him. And once Tony knew? Shit, it was all downhill from there. He'd never hear the end of it. 

To his utter amazement, the only thing that Pepper had done was smile and give him a genuine compliment, saying she'd never seen such a talented pole dancer. Bucky felt that the likelihood of her ever seeing another pole dancer besides himself was slim to none. That is, until she invited him to dance at the strip club she owned. 

His jaw had hit the floor at that helluva revelation and Pepper gave a trilling little laugh in response. 

“I bought it some time ago as a...let's just say it was a business decision made out of spite in response to a club of similar traits that Tony opened up a few years ago.” 

Pepper had given a shy smile and gone on to explain the premise of her nightclub, dubbed Habanero, and how she'd designed it as a place exclusively for women. From the way she described it, and just from knowing the woman herself, it sounded like the place was a pretty classy joint. And  _ very  _ popular. Popular enough that even when Tony’s club had tanked and been sold off years ago, she'd kept her place because it was just so damn profitable. 

So yeah, he went one night, per her invitation, and did a performance for the ladies who made their patronage there. He had a damn good time, too. Made a fuckton of cash while he was at it. 

Pepper had the brilliant idea to announce him as the Winter Beefcake, a Winter Soldier “lookalike” special for the ladies in attendance that night. It kept his true identity safe and allowed him the freedom to dance in just his jeans and his mask. No need to worry about everyone seeing his arm when everyone just assumed it was fake. 

And damned if the idea wasn't a hit, too. Pepper was inundated the following week with requests for his return and then requests for some of the other “Avengers” to make appearances. So that's how every third Tuesday of the month became Avengers Night at club Habanero and the joint became packed with women looking for lap dances from superhero lookalikes, including Bucky. 

Of course, he never provided the lap dances. The risk of one of those grab-happy dames going for his mask was too high, so he stayed up on the stage where he could enjoy being enjoyed by the women there and still keep his identity secure. 

This went on for months, until Darcy Lewis and a gaggle of her friends waltzed into the club. The woman who he'd been slowly building a friendship with over the past year was wearing the most enticing blue silk dress he'd ever seen, the fabric clinging in all the best ways over every curve, and on top of her head she wore a bright purple plastic tiara that had “birthday girl” emblazoned across the front in blinking LED lights. 

Bucky came to three realizations in that moment:

  1. His feelings for the woman could no longer be categorized as platonic, and probably hadn't been that way for a while 
  2. He’d _forgotten her goddamn birthday_ and
  3. He was so fucking screwed if she found out who he was.



Normally he was one of the main stage performers on Avengers Night, due to his high popularity among the female populace, but tonight he kept to the smaller side stages, wanting to stay as far from Darcy's gaze as possible without straight up bailing and leaving Pepper in a bind being a dancer short. 

He performed the first couple songs in his set, always with one eye on Darcy's group on the other side of the club, until eventually he relaxed and the routine of his performance took over his attention. 

When he finished out his fifth song, he was met with the familiar applause and smattering of catcalls and wolf whistles. He made a quick bow to his audience and then made to turn back to his pole when he was stopped by the voice of a very drunk Jane Foster shouting up at him from the edge of the stage. 

“Hey! HEY!  _ Hey _ ! Winter Soldier guy! Iss my friend’s birthday!” The petite brunette grabbed Darcy by the shoulders, shaking the other woman as if she were a small child showing off her rag doll to him. Darcy placed a palm over her eyes in embarrassment and then looked up at him with those big, gorgeous eyes, mouthing  _ sorry _ at him. 

He grinned at her, but realized she couldn't see that so he tipped his head and gave her a thumbs up, then turned his back to the women and prepared to get the hell back stage before he got recognized. 

“HEY, buddy! Come back ‘ere! My friend needsa lap dance from her very favorite Abenger!” 

His supersoldier hearing was able to distinctly pick up on Darcy's voice as she vehemently whispered, “Oh my god, Jane. Shut. Up!” 

“No! You deserve a lap dance from at least the fake one if the real deal one won't do it. If that fucker thinks he can juss keep flirting with you and stringing you along and never asking you on a date and forgetting YOUR BIRTHDAY, then he's a fucker! Wait no, I already called him that. An asshole! He's a teasing asshole birthday forgetting fucker!” 

He turned in time to see Darcy groan and drop her face into her hands, the embarrassment of the moment seemingly too much for her to bear. 

The decision to stride forward and hand Darcy one of the little gold tickets to receive a private lap dance was made before he could think it through too much. She glanced down, reading the information and instructions on the shiny foil card, and then looked up at him for a few breathless moments until he straightened up and walked back across the stage to exit through the back. 

His bare feet slapped heavily against the tile flooring as he made his way to the back entrance of the private room that was specified on the ticket. He took his position at the pole on the short platform that was situated in the center of the small room. Mirrors lined each of the walls and a small, deep purple Victorian love seat rested to one side of the miniature stage that Bucky now stood on. 

_ What was he thinking?  _

_ Oh, god, this was a terrible idea. _

_ What was he THINKING?! _

His heart rate skyrocketed and he braced himself to leap down from the stage and escape out through the back entrance but was stopped by the sound of the main door clicking open. 

He froze, his flesh hand gripping tightly to the pole, the metal one hanging in a loose fist by his side, and watched Darcy as she hesitantly entered the room. She stared up at him with a strained smile and gave an awkward little wave to him before scuttling over to the loveseat. 

Damnit, she was such a cute little thing. He could feel himself smiling like an idiot and he was once again exceedingly happy that his face was hidden behind the mask. 

“Um, so, hi again. I'm not really..sure what I'm supposed to do…?” She looked up at him, a crooked grin pulling at her lips and her feet tucked up under her where she sat on the velvet seat. 

Fuck it. He was going to give this beautiful woman the best performance of his life. It was her birthday after all, and he really was an asshole fucker for forgetting. 

And maybe.

Maybe, after tonight, he'd see her the next day and ask her out on a date. If Jane's words were anything to judge by, he wasn't the only one whose feelings had changed. 

But for now, he was going to make this birthday girl  _ feel good _ . 

Darcy started to stutter out an apology, picking nervously at the seam of her skirt. He lifted a metal index finger to place over his mask in front of his lips and her voice fell silent. 

He took a deep breath, closing off the rest of his mind to focus on the sensual beat of the music being piped into the small room. He gripped the pole with both hands, swiveling his hips slowly as he synced his body to the rhythm of the music. Once he'd settled into the song, he began dancing in earnest, molding his body around the pole and losing himself to the dance. 

Every once in awhile he'd turn his head to watch Darcy watch  _ him _ and it damn near made his knees buckle to see the open  _ want _ on her beautiful face. When the song wound down and a second one started, he sank to the ground, crawling towards her on all fours until he came to the edge of the stage. She leaned further forward in her seat, her eyes flitting over his muscles with each movement. 

He wanted to touch her. And wanted her to touch him. So he swung down from the platform and stalked the short distance to the loveseat until he dropped to his knees directly in front of Darcy. He reached forward slowly, resting his flesh hand across her knee, tilting his head to signal his request for permission. 

She shifted under his hand, unfolding her legs to plant her feet on the floor on either side of his knees, and then bobbed a quick nod at him, smiling encouragingly down at him. 

He didn't waste another minute, rising from the floor to straddle her lap, his hands gripping the edge of the sofa as he rolled his hips across her lap. 

He felt somewhat ridiculous, as he'd never actually given a lap dance before, but in the months he'd been working there, he'd certainly seen plenty of them given by other dancers. He did his best to copy a few of their moves and just prayed to god he didn't end up embarrassing himself.

Or nutting in his pants. Which was a definite possibility because he was achingly hard in the compression shorts he wore beneath his jeans and the little panting breaths Darcy kept making in his ear were the kind of sweet music that a man could get off to. 

And then she said his  _ name _ . Whined it out like she was aching for him as much as he was for her. And it wasn't like what the other women in the club shouted out across the room to him. They usually referred to him as Soldier or Beefcake or even Sarge on occasion. But Darcy  _ knew _ him, and wanted him, and when she whimpered out “ _ Bucky _ ” into his ear, his rumbled response of “ _ Yes _ ,  _ kitten _ ” was instantaneous and without thought. 

She froze underneath him, her breath hitching and her head jerking up from where it had been lolling against the couch. “ _ Bucky??”  _ she asked, her brow furrowing and her eyes squinting up at him in suspicion. 

_ Shit shit shit, abort! _

He tried to smoothly pull away from her in time to the music, as if the lap dance was over and he needed to return to his stage, but she reached out her hand to grip at his cybernetic arm, which took that moment to react to her touch with a series of shifting plates and mechanical whirs that could not possibly be passed off as fake. 

Her eyes widened in the dimly lit room as realization struck and her other hand shot out, ripping the goggles and mask from his face before he had the chance to get his body to cooperate and get him  _ the fuck outta there _ . 

“Bucky, what  _ the fuck _ , man??” She glared up at him, hurt and accusation clear in her eyes. 

He scrambled back from the couch, hands outstretched in a semi pleading gesture. “Jesus, Darcy, honey, I-” 

“Is this a-a-a joke? Are you  _ making fun of me _ ?!” The timbre of her voice pitched higher and higher, finally cracking on the last word as a tear collected and fell from one corner of her eye. 

At the sight of his girl crying, he broke a little bit, rushing forward to reassure her with words and hands but stopping just shy of touching her at the murderous look she gave him when he tried to place his hands on her shoulders. 

Guess he was down to just words then.

He gasped out a series of apologies, stumbling over his explanation and trying to get the sequence of events leading up to that night to come out in the right order. It took him awhile, but eventually he got the whole truth out, even offering to call Pepper to back up his claim.

Darcy softened at the mention of Pepper. The woman's word was above reproach. But she also knew in her heart of hearts that the man begging and pleading on his knees, literally, before her didn't have the heart for the kind of cruelty she'd accused him of. It was just that the whole situation was so  _ bizarre _ .

Bucky Barnes, Pole-fessional? Just...what the  _ fuck? _

“Darcy,  _ please _ believe me, I wasn't trying to hurt you or be an ass.” 

“I know,” she said softly, finally reaching out to close the gap between them. 

Bucky huffed out a sigh of relief and pulled her into a tight hug, shaking like a leaf and never wanting to let her go again. She snuffled in his arms, twisting her hand up to wipe the tears from her face, and then gave a long, miserable groan. 

“What's wrong, sweetheart?” he asked, loosening his grip enough to look her in the eye. 

She refused to meet his gaze, staring resolutely at the center of his chest. “Oh nothing,” she whined. “It just sucks that  _ this  _ is how you find out about my big, dumb, fucking crush on you.” She pressed forward until she was able to hide her face fully in his chest with a series of miserable whines. 

He nuzzled his nose into the top of her head, sweeping his hands down around her waist. “I don’t think it's dumb. Or… maybe it is, but that's okay cause it’ll fit right in with the big, dumb crush I have on  _ you _ .” 

Darcy snapped her head back fast enough to clip his chin, but the look of awestruck wonder and delight on her face was enough to wipe the pain from his memory. 

“Is that so?” she asked with barely contained glee. 

“Yeah, that's so,” he replied, glancing up shyly at her from beneath his lashes. 

“Well then why'd you never ask me out?”

“Too chickenshit, I guess.” 

“Dude, you shake your ass on stage for a bunch of middle aged horn dog women once a month, and asking me out on a date is what scares you??” 

“Those women don't want to date me though, they just want to fuck me. Or at least daydream about fucking me. Actually convincing a woman to spend time with me beyond sex? That's fucking terrifying. My personality is nightmarish and not exactly boyfriend material.”

“I'm pretty partial to your personality, Buck,” she replied coyly, tracing her fingertips up along his abs. “Among other things.” 

He huffed a laugh. “Yeah well then you're the only woman who is.” 

“And that's the way I like it,” she teased, pinching lightly at his stomach. “Even though you  _ did _ forget my birthday,” she added as an afterthought. 

Bucky groaned. “God, I know, I'm so sorry, Darcy. I am an absolute schmuck.” 

“That's alright, Bucky...I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me.” Her hands slid up his chest and up along his neck to tangle in his long hair. 

“Oh yeah?” he breathed out, his pulse jumping with each scrape of her nails over his scalp. 

“Mhm,” she hummed and then pulled him down to kiss him breathless. 

When they finally pulled back for air, Bucky peered at her with dazed eyes, his chest heaving against hers. “You wanna get outta here, kitten? Maybe go somewhere I can make you scream without having to worry about security getting called?” 

“Ooh, Bucky, you have the  _ best _ ideas. Meet me in the parking lot in ten minutes?” 

“Yes ma'am,” he replied, ticking his fingers in a little salute. 

***

The next morning, Darcy sat at his kitchen table, wearing nothing but a smile and singing  _ “happy birthday to me,” _ under her breath between sips of coffee. 

Bucky sat next to her, his left hand tangled in her right, while his other wrote out a long, heartfelt thank you note to Natalia for introducing him to the fabulous art of pole dancing. 


End file.
